There could never be a replacement. Ghost didn’t care how qualified you were. No amount of medals, accolades, or references would ever make you worthy of taking Johnny’s place on the Task Force.

A medic, Price had said. It won’t hurt us any to have one with us in the field. Ghost had shoved Price into the wall before stalking off. A medic can’t fix a bullet to the brain. A medic wouldn’t have saved Johnny.

As public enemy number one, the work environment was hostile, and that is putting it eloquently. Ghost refused to speak to you, use your name, or even look at you for too long.

But you were never one for bullshit. You killed him with kindness, not allowing his behavior to affect your time on the team. The Price and Gaz adored you. It was only a matter of time before Ghost fell under your spell, too.

It was slow, a creeping sensation deep in his chest. It started with his ears perking when he’d hear your voice entering a room. He’d never look, but would loosen the tension in his shoulders. Then he started looking for you in crowds, keeping an eye on you during team outings. During ops, your voice was the one he’d listen for over the radio.

He truly thought he had it under control, a subtle care that no one noticed, until Price approached him one day. “What has you so distracted? You’re missing shots, you’re forgetting routine things, and you’re dragging everyone down.” It had been a harsh reprimand. So what is his solution?

He blames you.

It all boils over when the team is in the middle of an op. You’d broken off from the pack on Price’s orders, searching for survivors in need of medical attention, much to Ghost’s dismay. And so he broke protocol. He follows. He finds you mending an open gash on an unconscious soldier, shouting orders at his teammates. When they lug off the wounded, Ghost approaches.

“You need to stop.” he snaps. Stop what? He doesn’t know.

“I’m busy,” you roll your eyes, brushing past him. He intercepts. “What is your issue!? I’ve been nothing but nice. I do my job and I leave you alone!”

“You’re just a distraction! You come into this team and you try to replace Johnny and—“

“That is not what I’m doing!” you argue back. “I am here because I want to prevent what happened to Sergeant MacTavish.” You sigh. “I’m sorry about your friend, your brother. I am, but I cannot bring him back, and neither can you.” your voice is quiet. This is not the time or place, but it can’t wait.

His shoulders shake with restrained…what? Rage? Grief? Both? He takes a deep breath. Hating you won’t bring Johnny back. It’s only making him miserable, consuming him and rotting him from the inside out. The team adores you… maybe he does, too.